Pensées
by wingofpain
Summary: We always thought they were happy to fight in the league. Some of them were, some of them weren't, and it wasn't always easy to know who loved the league. Come and read their thought for a short time. It will be a series of one-shot probably not related.
1. Garen

**Hello, you may not know me but i know each of you.**

**Nah, i'm kidding^^**

**Anyway, I own nothing of the character used for this story nor do i make any money from it. (i wish i could though )**

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Dégoût.

The league of legend was the same as always. Blood, curse, wound and more importantly, death were part of it.

The league's champions were fighting another mindless battle, either to entertain people, either to please some of the ruler of Runnaterra.

No, he shouldn't think like this, he was fighting for his country, for Demacia. He was one of the symbols of its power, of its ideal. He had to continue to fight against those scumbags of Noxus.

Even this thought seemed so hollow, so devoid of…belief. Garen, the might of Demacia was doubting, not himself, but the meaning of the league and some of his belief too.

He had fought alongside some of whom he had once considered "scumbag", alongside the Noxian.

Long time ago, before the league, he would have wished to kill them all, to cleanse the world of the Noxian.

Now, it was different. He still didn't like most of them like Katarina, even if he had to admit that she was one of the greatest warrior he had ever seen. Or Swain, and he was also forced to recognize that he was the best strategist he had met.

However, he got on well with some of them. He sympathized with Morgana, the fallen angel, when she talked about justice, about her ideal; he wondered how it was really similar to his belief, Demacia's ideal. Of course Kayle, Morganna's sister, disagreed completely with the fallen angel. Moreover, it was well known that Morganna's bakeries were succulent, and even Jarvan IV loved them, thus, he doubt she was truly evil. A sorcerer who could use dark magic, yes, but evil, he doubted it.

His beliefs about Noxus were a little shattered, but it wouldn't have sufficed to make him doubt.

No, even if it was for Demacia, even if it was for his belief, he couldn't fathom to understand why he had to kill his comrades in battle. His closes friends, and worse, his sister.

Long ago, he had promised to himself that he would protect her, no matter what and still, he was forced to kill her, to see her face, her broken body each time they face in battle. He tried to resist, but he couldn't, the summoners forced him to do it.

At first, it broke him, but he manages to hide it behind a facade. After all, he was the might of Demacia, nobody would guess that he was emotionally hurt, not his sister, not Jarvan, and not the summoners. They didn't have to know.

Even when Garen was fighting, the summoners just wanted to win, they didn't search if their champion were troubled or hurt, they simply didn't care.

Every now and then, he hated those sumonners, not only Noxius'summoners, but all the summoners, he hated the league.

He wanted to flee far away, to be a good brother because he knew that no brother should kill his sister, even if she could be resurrected in the next minute. Sadly, he couldn't, it would bring shame upon his family and his sister, it would also crush some of Demacia's credibility.

But, almost no champion doubted, or seemed to doubt the league. It was evident that Ionia was grateful of the creation of the league. It was also obvious that Noxus and Demacia were trying to control the league.

Garen was torn apart; he wanted to help his country without going against his beliefs.

On those thought, Garen was summoned to fight another mindless battle.

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**Thank you for reading, i hope you will review even if it is to flame me. I could use that to burn some marshmallow.**

**Seriously, if you had found some big or tiny mistake, feel free to tell me^^.**

**If you are wondering, the title of this chapter is in french =)**


	2. Olaf

Esclavage

He was pushing, maybe a little too much since he was under the last ennemy's turret, but a true warrior wouldn't fear those turrets moreover if they knew they would survive, even if those shots hurt like hell.

The turret fell and he began to destroying the ennemy's Nexus. They couldn't do anything against a fed Berserker and the match ended with a victory for Olaf's team.

Some minutes later he was observing the horizon, in the sea's direction to be exact, lost in thought. He remembered how he lost his pride and became a shameful slave, a slave serving the League.

He had been younger and prideful, he won against hundreds of Lokfar's warriors and he was even considered as one of the most powerful Berseker to have ever walked on his continent.

However his pride was his own downfall, even a powerful warrior as himself couldn't win against Nature and the sea storm surprised him and his warrior. His Army's drakars broke like little wooden sticks and all of his warriors drown. Sadly it only happened because he had thought himself to be unkillable, undefeatable, which had led him to try to loot a new land.

The sea had won though, there had been no great battle, no prideful death, no glory and he couldn't even avenge his men.

And when he thought he had died, he found himself on one of this new continent's beach, without his army and with some of his pride gone. But at that time, he wasn't a slave yet, it had happened later.

Lokfar's people were always honest, brutal but truthful. To lie was shameful and thus disapproved by their gods; the liars weren't accepted into the Valhalla and suffered the same fate as Loki.

That's why he had thought those powerful sorcerers would be truthful as well. He swore to serve them in Battle and they swore to find him a way back to Lofkar. Soon after this pact, he discovered that if he gave them information they could find a way back, however they had asked him about Lofkar's government and its militaries forces.

Olaf wasn't a fool, even when he had been younger; he knew that every general, even Berserkers generals, would have asked those questions in the prospect of conquering a land, of conquering Lofkar, his land, his home, his family. And he wouldn't allow that to happen so he kept his mouth shut. He wouldn't lie, but he wouldn't say a word to those _Summoners and sorcerers_.

They had no pride and they wouldn't be accepted into the Valhalla. Sadly, he couldn't disobey the call of battle. Indeed, he had sworn to fight wherever they wanted.

And so his life as a shameful slave began.

He had no way to return to home, those prideless sorcerers had deceived him and he had been a fool to believe them in the first place, in fact he had been a fool to try to loot a new land.

And now, he was fighting with those sins burdening his shoulders while killing and being killed by the summoners' game whom wished to have more power in Valoran. Because he knew that the creation of the league had only one goal: Total domination, not peace.

However his continent wouldn't fall into their filthy hand, and he swore to Odin , as he had already done countless times, that he would stop those Sorcerers before they came to Lofkar. It wasn't by vengeance or something as petty as that, he simply knew that Lofkar had no powerful sorcerers and even the greatest warrior couldn't hope to fight toe to toe with those summoners' magics and deceptions.

If they put only one foot on Lofkar, his continent would be doomed and he knew it.

That's why, each time he went to the field to do another mindless battle, his normal anger was amplified. And the only thought that was alimenting his rage was:

"For Lofkar!"

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**I think I improved a little since last time….at least, I hope so^^**

**To answer you **_**Guest **_**I know that my English is far from being perfect or as good as an Englishman, that's why I'm writing, to improve myself^^**

**Anyway, I thank my beta^^ (all the remaining mistakes are her alone….not really ^^).**


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